A Time to Remember
by yellowhorde
Summary: This was written for the Thanksgiving Quick Fire Challenge at the LiveJournal community, deancastiel. Challenge #3. After the tragic events at Carthage, Bobby wants to celebrate Thanksgiving. And what Bobby wants, he gets.


Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural and I make no money from this or any other fanfic I write.  
Pairing: Dean/Castiel  
Category: General  
Rating: G  
Warning: Spoilers for 5.10 – Abandon All Hope

Title: A Time to Remember  
Author: yellowhorde  
Notes: This was written for the Thanksgiving Quick Fire Challenge at the LiveJournal community, deancastiel. _Challenge #__3. Family/ Extended Family: Be it other angels, long-lost blood ties, or simply the family you make for yourself._

A TIME TO REMEMBER

"Well, I don't know about you yahoos," Bobby announced suddenly, "But I want me some turkey and all the trimmings."

Dean sat up a little straighter on the couch, frowning. Even Sam was pulled from his melancholy brooding. Castiel, who had returned in solemn silence, simply looked at him with that little puzzled head tilt.

The wan, grey light of morning filtered in through the windows but it only emphasized the already gloomy atmosphere inside the Singer home. Empty bottles of Jim Bean and Jack Daniels lay scattered carelessly around the living room. The room was chilly, the fireplace cold, gray ashes on the hearth all that remained of the symbolic pyre, the only funeral service Jo and Ellen Harvelle would get.

"I don't know, Bobby," Sam said, "Do you really think it would be appropriate? I mean, considering what's happened?"

"All the more reason we should celebrate," Bobby insisted, "You think Jo and Ellen would want us to mope around here sobbing into our cups?" Before anyone could reply, he answered his own question. "No, of course they wouldn't. They'd want us to go on living our lives."

"Bobby, I-"

Bobby turned his wheelchair around in sharp, angry movements. "I've got a turkey thawed in the fridge. Wash your hands, boys, and haul ass. Dinner isn't going to make itself, you know."

The brothers looked at each other, uncertain. It was Bobby's impatient, "Get a move on, you chuckleheads," that got them moving. They hurried to join Bobby in the kitchen, Castiel trailing behind them.

"Sammy, you're going to help me with the turkey and stuffing," Bobby said, gesturing toward the refrigerator. "Castiel," The angel eyed him warily. "You'll make the deviled eggs, potatoes and green bean casserole."

"I don't know how-" The angel began, but Bobby cut him off with an impatient wave of the hand.

"Doesn't matter. Sam will show you what to do."

"What about me?" Dean asked, eager to be doing something… anything.

"You're gonna clean the living room and dining room," Bobby said absently, as he began taking food and condiments from the refrigerator.

"What?" Dean squawked indignantly. "I'm not a housekeeper. I can help cook, too."

"No!" Sam and Bobby exclaimed together, identical looks of horror on their faces.

"You're never gonna let me forget about that, are you?"

"Not in this lifetime, boy. Now, get your ass in gear. Time's a wasting."

Dean stomped out of the kitchen mumbling under his breath. Castiel thought he heard the words 'ingrates' and 'accident', but he couldn't make out the rest.

Puzzled as to why he was being allowed to help prepare the meal, but Dean wasn't, he asked, "What did he do to be banished from you kitchen, Bobby?"

Sam grinned and though Bobby kept his face somber, his eyes twinkled. "One year he thought he'd deep-fry a turkey. Only he forgot to thaw it all the way."

"And that is… bad?"

"Oh, hell, yeah. The damned thing caught on fire. Hell of a mess."

In less time than the angel would have thought, the living room and dining room were spotless, the table set, and the kitchen was filled with the savory scents of roast turkey, fresh bread, and apple pie.

Bobby supervised Castiel's work, showing him how to use the measuring spoons and follow the basic instructions that came on the box of instant mashed potatoes.

"Homemade is better," He admitted with a sigh, "But I don't have any taters on hand. Instant will have to do."

Mystified, Castiel simply nodded his head and poured the potato flakes into the boiling water and began to stir carefully with a wooden spoon.

When dinner was ready, the turkey sliced - Bobby gave Dean the honor as if to apologize for sticking him with cleaning detail - and the food arranged on the table, the four men sat around the small dining room table.

"Well, tuck in, boys," Bobby said after looking over the food dishes spread out on the table and grunting his approval.

"Wait." Castiel said quietly and held out his hands. "We should say grace."

Uncertain glances were exchanged, but it was Dean who first reached out and took Castiel's hand into his. "Sure, Cas. That would be good. You want to lead?"

Castiel smiled gratefully at him, gave his hand a small squeeze. "Yes, I would be honored."

Sam took first Dean's hand then Bobby's and Bobby closed the circle by taking Castiel's other hand. One by one, they closed their eyes and bowed their heads.

For a moment there was silence and then Castiel began to speak, his voice calm and carrying. He uttered the words with a quiet assurance as if he had spoken them many times over the length of his long life. And, Dean thought, risking a quick glance at him, he probably had.

"Bless this food, oh, Lord and ourselves to thy loving service," Castiel began. "That we may always continue in thy faith and fear to the honor and glory of thy name." Here he paused for a moment as if searching for words that eluded him. When he spoke again, his voice trembled imperceptibly. The brother's cast glances at each other, bur remained silent.

"Let us remember those loved ones that could not be with us today. Help us to keep them in our hearts and memories forever. Amen."

"Amen," echoed each of the three hunters and released their hand holds, all but Dean, who continued to hold onto the angel's hand. He looked at Castiel with pride and silent gratitude, his own eyes brimming with pent up emotion.

When Bobby raised his head, his eyes were bright. "That was beautiful, Castiel. Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Dishes were passed around, plates piled high and food sampled and devoured. Even Castiel joined in the feast, though at first he protested. All in all, it was a better Thanksgiving than any of the hunters had any right to expect. And for that, they were grateful.

THE END


End file.
